Put a knife through my heart
by MargotG
Summary: AU, Dacey does not die at Red Wedding but is taken prisonner and is currently held captive by the Freys. The whole Jeyne Poole thing doesn't happen. (for now anyway, I havn't yet decided about future events.) Roose decides to bring Dacey back North with him as a bride for his bastard son. I know this pairing would never happen, but just having some fun writing it. :)
1. Chapter one - So we meet, again

It was a cold grey morning when Roose Bolton, the newly appointed Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, made his way out from the great hall of the Twins. The cold atmosphere of the room was enough to chill anyone right to the bones, blood still hanged heavily in the air, the serving wenches desperately trying to rid the red stains off the walls, carpets and floors.

His meeting and negociations with old Walder Frey, having left him with a terrible headache, Roose welcomed the crisp air on his face as he stepped out of the castle and into the yard, fires were still burning low, burning to ashes the bodies of the men he once fought alongisde with, crows could be heard fighting over the carcasses and the smell of death lingered in his nose.

Frey and Bolton men bowed their heads in respect as he passed, he ignored them continuing on his way to the dungeons, there waited the few present Northen Lords lucky enough to survive the massacre, and his son's prize, all of them waiting to hear of their fates, wether it be death or being bargained to their respective houses in order to gain their allegiance.

Roose passed the cells, one by one, prisonners of low birth packed into cells too small for them all to stand in, but they were overflowing, they would soon be sent on their way home after swearing fealty to House Bolton anyway, and those who didn't would be swiftly put to the sword. He carried on his way, until he reached the cell he had been informed she was being kept in, he signalled the man standing guard to open the door.

The old lock did not easily give way, but it eventually did and the door slowly creaked open as Roose grabbed the flaming torch on the wall and stepped into the cold dark room. There she was, her hands and ankles chained to the walls, sitting on the damp cold floor, her long dark hair a mess of braids undone, a reminder of the style it had adorned a couple of nights ago. The wood green of her gown tainted with dry blood, and the material ripped in several places. He studied her face, she sported a split lip aswell as a black eye coupled with a cut and bruised cheekbone, probably resulting from a hard hit, but he was taken aback when he met her gaze, her piercing green eyes bore into him; furiously glaring, hauntingly hating. Here we Stand were her House's words and even in chains, the proud She Bear stood tall indeed.

- Lady Mormont, we meet again.

She does not reply, only continues staring at him with that daunting look, she knows, knows of his bretayal, knows he was the one to plunge his dagger in her precious King in the North's heart, she saw the SmallJon's head fall from the ground and rolling to her feet as she was dragged out of the hall howling and fighting.

But Roose is not here to make amends, Robb Stark was a fool, and now the belongs to him, he feels no regret and his voice is sharp and menacing when he breaks the silence once more.

- Me and my men leave for Winterfell on the morrow, you are to come with us, as a reward for my Bastard for delivering me Winterfell.

Her stare becomes even more intense, a dark cloud settling in her eyes, and and her voice is cold when she replies.

- Flay me alive if need be but by all the Old God's I swear, I will never become one of your son's whores.

Roose smirks, he knows if any woman can survive Ramsay long enough to give him an heir, it is her, she was a warrior and the fire in her still burned fiercely, he turned on his heels and made his way to the door, as he exited the room, he turned around.

- Not his whore, his wife.

He spinned back on his feet and exited the cell, leaving Dacey to stare at the cell door being closed and hearing the click of the old lock, before she finally dropped her gaze and took a shakey breath.


	2. Chapter two - The departure

The yard is buzzing with activity as the first rays of light break through the night sky, the air is crisp and the winds are starting to detach a few dying leaves off the branches of trees. One could forget they are still in the South, but signs do not lie, the air is getting colder every week, and the temperatures are dropping lower and lower at night, the men are having to cover themselves with extra furs lest they tremble all through the night, the daylight hours already seem to be growing shorter and certain wild animals can be seen getting fatter and preparing cosy nests, winter is clearly coming. It is time for the Northmen to go home and prepare for the harshness to come. The war has already lasted too long, the men are eager to return home to their families, harvest what little is hopefully left in their fields, to prepare dry meats and fish in order to feed their families when the animals can no longer survive the colds and the snow makes it impossible to hunt, to cut the wood in order to heat their small homes so they do not freeze to death when the ice settles on their windows and roofs. Most of these men are folks from lands surrounding the Dreadfort, and will accompagny their new Lord Paramount to Winterfell where a number of men will then be allowed to return to their homes while others will stay serving Lord Roose and his household at the stronghold of the North.

Several ravens can be seen taking to sky, heading North carrying with them little parchements announcing the departure of the Lord of Winterfell from the Twins and instructing to prepare for his and his party's arrival.

In the yard, men are shouting orders, packing trunks, foods and travelling essentials and loading onto the back of mules and carts being pulled by heavy horses. The smell in the camps is barely bearable, a mix of shit, piss, vomit and blood still lingering in the air, the kind of smell which sticks to the back of your nose and throat down to your lungs. Tents are being pulled down, and packed up aswell as precious furs which are being packed last for easy access when they head further North.

As the sun rises further into the sky, more and more men are up and getting ready to leave this bloody haunted place, stepping over bodies yet to be burned, missing limbs rotting away with the constant sound of crows fighting over a morbid meal.

Roose Bolton steps out of the great keep into the yard, welcoming the morning breeze, he can hardly wait to leave this place and the Freys with it. He has hardly slept, mulling over decisions and his new responsabilities, aswell as the fact he can not seem to get the memory of those piercing green eyes off his mind. He knows he has made the right decision; Ramsay needs a wife, a wife that will give their house strong heirs so they can carry on their line should Roose's new wife fail in her duty, and make a point to the Seven Kingdoms that the North now belongs to the Boltons, none of them know that yet though, for now Dacey Mormont is just a war prize and Ramsay is still a bastard. Fat Walda is standing at his side as he walks through the men overseeing the proceedings, her arm lingering heavily on his, feeling his temper short today, he sends her on her way to get herself ready. He can hear the snickering and whispers of his men as she walks past them, heading towards the wheelhouse she will travel in to make sure her belongings are being packed correctly. Lord Walder had assured Roose that Walda could ride fine alongside him for the journey, but Roose would sooner cut his own hand off than have the girl chattering away in ears all day, trying to get on his good side, giggling at nothing and trying to make him forget the fact that she was probably the least desirable woman he had ever met in his lifetime and an embarassement to him.

At around midday, the squires and stablehands started to get the horses ready, first the cart horses, picking their feet and quickly brushing their coats, before putting on their bridles and harnesses and taking them to their respective carts, making sure the leathers were well adjusted and in good enough condition to last the journey. The palfreys and destriers were next, more care was taken to get their preparation, making sure all the mud was removed from their coat before saddling them to avoid painful sores as the leather from the girths rubbed against their skin.

Roose was still walking around, making sure everything was going to plan, when everything seemed to be as ready as could be, he mounted his destrier and ordered for the prisoners that would be taken with them to be bought out and loaded into the carriages, well carriages was a fancy word for it, the wooden barred carts being pulled by horses was more appropriate.

Along second sons and cousins of Northen houses, Roose spotted the GreatJon being bought out, screaming from the bottom of his lungs and trying his best to throw a punch at the men holding him, four men had been tasked with Lord Umber and it was not one too many, they clearly struggled to keep hold of the man, who's adrenaline made him seemed as strong as ever even after his 3 day emprisonement and lack of food, the men finally managed to load the GreatJon. Next came the She Bear, being dragged out by two men, one of which Roose recognized as Ryman Frey, whom had showed a lot of interest in Lady Mormont, not so much now though, as the woman howled and kicked in the air, the man lost his temper and hit her accross the head with the hilt of his sword, her body went limp and the men shared a laugh as they loaded her up. She will wake up a few hours later, with another bruise and a very sore head.

Roose turned to Walda who was sharing embraces with her sisters and saying her goodbyes to her brothers, uncles and finally her grandfather before stepping into her wheelhouse, wiping tears from her eyes.

Lord Walder exchanged the expected pleasanteries with his new ally, and wished them a safe return to the North, Roose stifly bowed his head in return and thanked him for his hospitality before heading to the gate leading to the bridge and signaling to the front of the column to start marching out.


	3. Chapter three - On the road

Dacey woke with a start, her ears ringing and her head throbbing in pain, she felt desorientared and struggled to remember where she was and what had exactly happened. The putrid smell from the dungeons at the Twins was gone, replaced with the scent of green grass and fresh country air. She was laying down, being bumped around as the old creaking wheels of the cart rolled through the dirt and rocks, as the slowly opened her eyes, the harsh sunlight hit her and made her brain hurt, forcing her to groan as she slowly sat up, she bought her hands to her head, her wrists still weighed down by the heavy shackles around them. Wooden bars closed in around her, the chains at her ankles and wrists connected to a ring made of strong steel, there was no escaping, not yet anyway. She looked around, the column seemed to strech for miles, men carrying the black and red banner of the flayed man, singing songs about their victory and home. She tried to block them out, memories of that awful night jumping to her mind as the men around her boasted about their own involvement and about the men they had killed, men who had been their battle companions a few moons ago.

The hours passed, her throat ached from the dryness, her empty stomach having gone passed the point of hunger, her headache not seeming to want to go. She tried to think of happier times, of Bear Island, the times she played on the beach with her sisters, of Alysane's children and the proud look in her mother's eyes as their rode off to war together. If there was one thing Dacey was glad for, its that her mother had not attented the wedding, her and Galbart Glover havn't been sent to find Lord Howland Reed at Greywater watch, and so ensuring she escaped the massacre at the Twins.

As the sun started to go down in the sky, the column stopped and the order to set up camp for the night was given. Dacey sighed in relief when the horses stilled and the constant shaking and bumping stopped. She was given a meal of hard bread annd dry meat aswell as some much needed water, and she even thanked the old god's and the new when she was even given a fur to wrap herself in.

- Wouldn't want Ramsay's little lady to freeze to death before he gets to even meet her.

She tried her best to ignore his jape, she was fuming inside, but would not give this man the satisfaction of seeing the impact his words had on her. She had hoped they would leave her alone for the night, but her hopes were soon dashed when a guard came to stand by the cart. She sighed once again and wrapped the fur around her body, trying her best to get comfortable, which was proving impossible on a hard wooden floor with cold heavy shackles on her wrists and ankles. Her mind wasn't helping either, images of that dreadful night coming to her mind, the realisation of the trap they had been sent into, the screams, her friends being murdered before her eyes as she was dragged away, with not even a sword in her hand to help protect her king to the death, like she had sworned to do. She felt ashamed. Ashamed at her failure to protect Robb Stark, ashamed to have trusted power hungry people like Walder Frey and Roose Bolton, ashamed to have survived in such a pitiful way. She was a warrior, she should have fought, they would have killed her, but she would have died with honour, instead she had been dragged out like a useless little lady, and was now being packed away to the North to become the wife of a monster.

The morning's sun came a lot earlier than she would of liked, her efforts of falling asleep proving pointless, her body was sore and her mind was emotionally drained but there was too much keeping her from sleep. The men quickly took down the tents and got the horses ready, and before long, the column was moving again.

The day's events went about the same as the previous, although Dacey found sleep more easily that night, sheer exhaustion taking over her dark thoughts, thus allowing her some much needed rest.

They travelled like this for what seemed like weeks, giving her the bare necessities to survive, although she was given a cloak as they got further North and was allowed a thicker fur through the nights.

Before dawn one morning, she was woken by the guards shouting at her to get up, something about Lord Bolton requesting she be made ready as they would reach Winterfell before nightfall.

The simple task of walking proved to be much harder after days spent cramped up and not being allowed to move freely, Dacey stood on shaky legs as the guards led her to a tent, they removed her shackles and waited outside as she stepped through the flaps. But not before leaving her with simple instructions;

- If you try anything funny, we will be in there before you know it.

Inside, two handmaidens waited, and she nearly cried at the sight of the steaming bath tub waiting for her, she had never felt so dirty in her life, and wanted to jump in there without bothering to remove, the once pretty dress which now looked like disgussting old rags, off her body. The handmaidens, who had not bothered to introduce themselves had other ideas, they stripped her naked before hushering her to the tub, her skin burned as she entered the water but she welcome the pain at the sight of the filth already coming off her body. One of the women, a plump lady, grey of hair with calloused palms and fingers from years of working, grabbed a washing cloth and scrubbed at her skin and hair, the clear water having become a off brown colour. She then proceeded to scrub oil in her skin, it smelled like pine, like the North, Dacey liked that. She felt so wonderful seeing the proper colour of her skin again that she did not complain when they made her step out of the tub and patted her dry. She was given fresh smallclothes, and was laced up in a black gown, with flowery designs made of red thread, it was a pretty dress, she had to admit that, if one ignored House Bolton's colours. The other handmaiden, a young woman, petite with gentle features and curly blonde hair started combing through her hair, styling it in a simple loose side braid, she was then given a simple grey woolen cloak before she had to exit the comfort of the tent.

She did not like the look in the guard's eyes as he put the shackles back on her writs, had she been in different circumstances, she would of spat in his face, but she could not afford that right now.

- You are to ride in the wheelhouse with lady Walda today.

She simply nodded, following the guards as they led her to the wheelhouse, the sun was up now and the men were finishing packing the camp up for the final time. When she entered the wheelhouse, Lady Walda looked at her with a sweet smile, but Dacey's face said it all, the simple fact she was one of Walder's Frey brood made her want to wrap her chains around that fat throat and strangle the life from it, but she simply stared her down and sat as far away from the woman as was possible, Walda's smile quickly faded as the order to march was given.


End file.
